


All that glitters (is most likely gold)

by hweianime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Harry likes shiny things, I don't know, I wanted to write smutty smut with Harry wearing pretty things but this shit came out instead, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Worldbuilding, really - Freeform, thats the whole plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 21:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18668575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hweianime/pseuds/hweianime
Summary: "Look, Malfoy's actually not a bad bloke-"Ron spluttered as Harry threw the drink at him a second time,"-I also deserve that."





	All that glitters (is most likely gold)

**Author's Note:**

> I... don't know why I... I...I mean... I don't even like Drarry that much but it turns out the writer in me does. I started this like a year and a half ago and suddenly I decided that writing this was going to help me destress from this week and I do not even. 
> 
> Um, I wanna thank Ivy Cresent for trying to beta this for me in the beginning before I inevitably lost interest for... until now. So. Well. This is still technically unbeta-ed for like, most of it. This is also why I don't have a beta. Cuz I suck.

Harry loves shiny things. Maybe it's because he never had anything nice until he was eleven. Maybe it's because shiny things were always something so out of reach because they were of value when he just... wasn't. Maybe it's just because he loves to watch the light reflect off the surface, entranced by the glitter and the gleam.

It doesn't matter.

Hermione and Ron figured it out first. Of course, they did. They're his best friends after all. Hermione had brought a necklace to school, nothing too fancy, just a simple metal chain with a little pink sparkly heart. It was one of the few 'girly' things she had and even then it was merely on a whim that she packed it. When she showed her two friends the necklace, the girl was expecting them to join in at making fun of it, to laugh at the girly design and all the glitter. She did not expect Harry to lose his collective shit over it.

"It's amazing!" He gushed, his messy hair tumbled forward as the green-eyed wizard leaned toward it, entranced at how the glitter covered pendant glittered, like every reflection of light from the item was something new and beautiful to him. "Oh wow, you must've been so happy to get this! Was it your birthday or something?"

Or something. Hermione felt rather ashamed under such genuine delight from her friend for some cheap necklace that she didn't even really want. Her mother had just insisted on buying it for her. "Uh, yes." She lied, feeling awful when Harry couldn't keep the look of yearning jealousy off his face, "It was a gift, but.. do you want to hold it?"

"Can I?!" Harry practically shouted in his enthusiasm, before flushing and hunching over himself, mortified, "I mean, yes, that would be just swell Hermione." He murmured shyly.

Tentatively, gently, like he's picking up the queen's crown instead of some kid's fake jewelry, Harry held the necklace in his hand, admiringly.

"I don't understand mate," Ron commented bemused and confused, "S'just a piece of shiny trash is all I see."

"I was never allowed to touch anything pretty." Harry whispered absentmindedly as he touched the heart-shaped locket, looking at the glitter staining his fingers with absolute wonderment, "I've always.. wanted..." he trailed off, lost in the simple glitzy object in his hands.

Ron and Hermione shared a look. They may have only been thirteen but they understood enough to know that their friend's home life wasn't the best. Ron, especially, at least understood the concept of wishing for things you never got to have.

"You know..." Hermione said slowly, "I think it would look rather lovely on you if you tried it on."

Harry blushed, and stammered, but his hands were gripping tightly onto the chain despite his protests, "I- I couldn't." He said, "It's too valuable." He told them more firmly. "I'm, it would never suit someone like me." He murmured sadly. "Plus, I'm a boy. Boys don't wear shiny things."

"Well, that's a load of bollocks." Ron declared a little shakily, because if Harry said one more bad thing about himself or how a flimsy little necklace that even  _he_  could easily afford, had more worth than Ron's bestest mate ever then Ron was going to actually cry. "My big brother Charlie is the manliest guy ever! H-he fights dragons! And he wears earrings and stuff."

"Oh." Harry looked a little lost but his eyes betrayed a spark of hope, "Dragons, really?"

"Yeah," Ron said proudly, because current issues aside, Charlie was wicked cool. Easily the coolest brother he had. And he had a lot of them. "Real big ones that breathe fire and everything."

"Wow." The smaller boy gasped, suitably impressed. Then with a little Gryffindor courage, he passed the necklace to Hermione with a bashful smile and asked, "Um, do you mind if you could-?"

Hermione beamed, her friend was very cute and she had always wanted a friend to talk about girly fashion stuff too. Not a lot though. But just, sometimes. "Of course Harry. I'll be happy too."

Harry's eyes watered a little as the lightweight of the chain sat on his neck, Ron ran out to grab a mirror for him to admire the gleam of silver and sparkle of pink resting on tanned skin and his white shirt. "It's so shiny." He muttered with no small amount of awe. "I've never, this is, thank you." He choked out.

"Anytime," Hermione told him meaningfully.

"You look great," Ron added with a lopsided grin.

* * *

By the time Harry is in fifth year he has amassed a small horde of trinkets. He adores them. The jewelry he has from Hermione is something he loves to wear under his robes constantly. Hermione's parents are dentists, a very well paying job in the muggle world and when the usually bookish and antisocial girl wanted to splurge on accessories, not only for herself but for a  _friend_ , well. Let's just say the wallets could not have opened fast enough.

But that's not to say Ron never gave him anything. Indeed it was almost like he gave Harry even more than Hermione. Shiny stones he had come across. Half a sheet of sparkling wizard stickers. A shoelace which had permanently turned a dazzling orange sheen as a result of one of the twins' pranks. Even during the fourth year when the freckled boy had refused to talk to him during that short, heartbreaking, period, did he silently passed Harry a leaf of dried silverweed he had managed to smuggle out of the potions classroom.

Harry adored each and everything he had.

His favourite colour was the simple gleam of gold. Well, it wavered between gold, silver, metallic orange or those amazing starry colours which looked like there were whole galaxies inside them. Hermione said the effect was from a method called glassblowing or something. She told him of the things they could make with that sort of stuff and Harry wants it all. Oh, how he _wants._

* * *

 

He's wearing a golden necklace today. Not real of course. Plated. Harry had been feeling particularly bold and rebellious and sick of all the comments about his sanity he was getting lately. He needed to feel like he was worth something again. That he could be precious.

So he puts on one of the fancier necklaces Hermione gave him. It's something she had gotten on her trip to India. Too gaudy for her tastes but perfect for Harry who firmly believes that if he could be covered in gold and jewels and finery he would. Just the idea of it makes Harry shiver in a rather embarrassingly good way.

The heavy weight on his neck is almost enough to comfort him, distract him from the burning pain on his hand where the blood quill had tore into his flesh. Unfortunately, it also distracts from noticing a certain blonde wizard following behind him until it was too late.

"Wha-" Harry swears as Draco bloody Malfoy suddenly grabs the back of his robe and pushes him into an empty classroom. "Malfoy."

Malfoy smirks, "Potter, another detention? Clearly, you haven't learned your lesson."

"Not even close." The green-eyed teen spits defiantly, hatred for the other burning fierce and bright inside him. Merlin, he's always thought Malfoy was a prick, but to become one of Umbridge's cronies? It was almost... disappointing.

The pureblooded wizard sneers, stepping even closer into Harry's personal space liked he owned it or something. Harry tries to shuffle back, despite already being pressed against the wall. He can feel his face heat a little at how close his enemy insisted on being to him, it's ridiculous, Malfoy's always been in his face but recently he's literally been in his face. It's, well, it's uncomfortable, to say the least.

Malfoy opens his mouth, probably to shoot some sort of cruel remark about his apparent attention seeking lies but his expression immediately changes into something far more inquisitive as something seems to catch his eye. "Well, well, what's this you have there Potter?"

Harry pales as he follows the other's gaze down to the glint of gold peeking out of his ruffled robes and shirt. Hastily he tries to cover it up, mortified, but the Slytherin was quicker. With one hand he pins the arm Harry was going to use and with the other he rips open his robe, revealing the shiny chains of the necklace looping around his neck more clearly under the shirt. Glittering with cuts of red gems and it's gold outline, it was impossible to deny what was on the Boy Who Lived's neck.

There's a silence, and Harry, Harry has never felt so vulnerable. He can't even summon an inkling of his famed courage to even glance at the other wizard's expression. It's all he can do to keep the tears at bay.

"I…" For once it sounds like the mouthy pureblood was at a loss for words. His voice sounds lower, rougher than usual. Harry flinches in surprise as he feels hands further unbuttoning Harry's already slightly unbuttoned shirt with a muttered, "Need a better look."

"N-no," Harry whispers, hating how weak he sounds, how scared. Pale fingers pause at the third button and it gives the Gryffindor a bloom of hope. "Malfoy, I,  _please_." He stutters, still refusing to look the other in the eyes.

Malfoy doesn't say anything for a moment and Harry was this close to thanking him with a pathetically large amount of gratitude before the blonde's hands were upon him again. "Malfoy!"

"Don't make me confiscate it." Malfoy hisses, effectively shutting his protests right up. Gaudy or not, Hermione's parents had bought it for him and it was one of his most expensive pieces. The idea of Umbridge getting her fat fingers on it made him nauseous. "Wearing jewellery in the school is forbidden you know?"

Harry doesn't know. In fact, he's sure it's not true. But he's also sure that Malfoy isn't above making up a new bullshit law, now that he has the power to do so thanks to that pink toad, so he says nothing as the Slytherin pulls open his collar to better see his guilty pleasure.

"What is this? Did you steal it? Dare?" There's the familiar smirk in Malfoy's voice but it's almost lost in the oddly husky tone.

"It's.. mine," Harry admits softly, he's not sure what in Merlin's name possessed him to say the truth. Maybe it's the way Malfoy's hands were burning on his bare skin, the way the other is still so close to his own body that Harry could smell the faint scent of mint, the way he felt so weirdly small in such an exposing position. Maybe its the pressure of all three.

His eyes flicker up to see the stunned expression on the Malfoy heir's face. His usually white skin flushed pink. It was a rather fetching sight. Not that Harry cared. Really. He didn't.

"Yours?" Malfoy breathed. He seemed… surprisingly not horribly repulsed. Maybe even intrigued.

It gave Harry the courage to nod shyly.

The Slytherin let his hands skim the bumps of the red stones, the intricate curve of gold inlay before letting pad of his thumb brush against the warmer tanned skin of Harry. It made Harry bite his lip as heat seemed to surge through his belly at the strangely intimate and gentle gesture like he was something precious and fragile. Like  _he_  was the treasure.

"Merlin, you're-"

His breath ghosted over Harry's face, and for one insane moment, he had thought Malfoy was actually going to kiss him. For one insane moment, he had actually wanted him to. But then the moment broke as the Malfoy heir's face twisted into a conflicted mix of emotions before finally settling onto the expression Harry had both dreaded and expected.

"You're a freak."

Harry gasped, as Malfoy sneered down at him like a disgusting piece of filth, abnormal, freakish. His eyes fill with tears. He's crushed and humiliated and he feels more worthless than he has felt in a long, long time. Malfoy seems to sense this, that he has gone too far, looking surprised at Harry's reaction, shocked even. The blonde subconsciously backs away a little. "Wait, I didn't," Harry takes the opportunity for what it was. And with a stifled sob, though hardly a successful one, he shoves Malfoy off and runs away.

He doesn't touch his treasures for a long time after that.

* * *

 

There's a lot of things that happen since that time and now. Umbridge got 'attacked' by centaurs. Death Eaters. The Order of the Pheonix. Dumbledore. Horcruxes. Dobby. Snape. Dying. Coming back. Killing Voldemort. That last one was a pretty big deal.

But then, mercifully, things began to slow down again for Harry Potter. He did his part. He vouched for those that deserved to be vouched for, even if they were massive blonde pricks who Harry still loathes, and soon the people began to push the war to the back of their minds in favor of happier times.

Harry and his friends were one of the few that came back to Hogwarts to finish their year. Malfoy surprisingly was one of them too. Of course, things were different now, remorseful or not the pureblooded wizard had predominantly, and rather loudly, sided with the Dark Lord's way of things which hardly won him any favours now. It doesn't at all help that he had also been a massive git as well.

Ron and Hermione felt little sympathy for the once proud Slytherin prince, and Harry couldn't bring himself to the blame them too much. They all stood up to the Ministry to convince everyone Malfoy shouldn't go to Azkaban, that he is capable of reformation as shown in the last part of the war. But that didn't mean they particularly liked the other wizard.

Insults and schoolyard bullying seemed so insignificant in the mess of blood and death that was war, but that sort of stuff still sticks to you no matter how petty it was. Harry still cannot bear to wear anything more than a simple chain, maybe one with a pendant, but nothing as glamorous and glittering as he had always desired. Hermione and Ron had been absolutely furious when they found out why.

So overall that year was rather peaceful, and while the trio didn't actively go out of their way to protect people like Malfoy, they did dispel any bullying they saw even if it did happen to involve Malfoy. They knew they needed to be the examples, and attacking Slytherins and other Death Eater children was not something they wanted to promote at all.

There was one time Malfoy managed to get Harry alone again. Ron and Hermione were off snogging, the bastards and Harry had volunteered to stay out for a bit to help set up tomorrow's second-year potions lessons for Professor Bigby- certainly, a nice enough bloke, not as intelligent as Snape but clearly made up for it in his teaching skills.

"Potter."

Harry tensed at the familiar voice but refused to turn around. Not yet. He had his wand in his hand at the ready though.

"Malfoy." He says slowly, pretending to be very busy shuffling around the placement of some tuft of moon moss on the last student's desk. "Shouldn't you be in bed? Curfew must've been a while ago."

"I could ask the same to you."

"Pro-Headmaster McGonagall gave me permission to stay up longer. As long as I was helping out someone else." It was odd saying that. Headmaster McGonagall. Merlin, it's the details like that which really make it hard to accept the changes. Especially when the new potions master of all things is the new Head of Gryffindor. Baffling.

"Of course she did." The other muttered and Harry gripped his wand tighter.

In an irritated voice, Harry gritted out, "What do you want Malfoy."

There's quiet, and for one hopeful minute, Harry had thought maybe the Slytherin had chickened out and left. Of course, that wasn't the case. Draco Malfoy may be no Gryffindor but short of Voldemort himself, the other wizard wouldn't shut his mouth no matter the consequences. "I… wanted to say… thanks. For the trial. And killing the Dark Lord I guess."

Harry rolled his eyes and tried not to let his shoulders hunch up to his ears as apparently, the blonde had decided to revert back to fifth year in terms of his opinions of personal space again, standing far too close behind him for comfort. "No problem Malfoy. It was the decent thing to do."

"Look, I- can't you even look at me?!" Malfoy grabbed Harry's shoulder to spin him around, facing the annoyed Malfoy heir.

Immediately Harry raised his wand. "Don't you dare-!"

Malfoy gives a shuddering breath, "No this isn't," he looks frustrated. Good. He should be. "I just, I wanted to say thanks and, and I'm... sorry. For being such a fucking prat to you all. Especially in fifth year when I-"

"Don't." Harry closed his eyes, painfully aware about what exactly he was talking about in fifth year, he dropped his wand though. While he's not sure how genuine the apology was, he's smart enough to know Malfoy means it, if nothing else but to look good at the very least. "Please Malfoy, I'm over it." Lies.

"You don't look over it." The Slytherin says carefully. "Potter, I, there's no excuse fo-"

Harry let his eyes open, pinning the other with a fierce glare. " _Don't_ Malfoy. I don't want to hear it. You were right, I was.. freakish. I'm over it."

"No." Malfoy looks stricken. Probably upset his apologies weren't going the way he wanted it to. "No, _no_! That's not! I _didn't_!"

Suddenly the wizard saviour just had enough. He was tired and he had finished doing as Professor Bigby asked and he didn't need to stay and listen to some half-arsed kissing up. "I acknowledge your regrets and apologies and all that bullocks." Harry tells the other wizard, stupidly proud how his voice doesn't waver. "But if you think I would ever forgive you for that, you might as well try reconcile that blood feud you have with the Weasleys instead for all the good it'll get you."

With that, Harry pushed past a still Malfoy out the classroom. He doesn't look back.

After that, for the rest of the year they barely talked. Just the way Harry had wanted it to be. Though it didn't stop Malfoy from looking like he wanted to. Always shooting him looks when he thought Harry wasn't looking. Probably wanting another shot at his good graces. Bastard.

And then they graduated. And Harry thought he would never see Malfoy's stupid face again. Not if he could help it anyway.

* * *

 

Ron joined the Aurors. Hermione jumped into the Ministry fray.

Harry, defying everyone's expectations as usual. Made friends with Ollivander and started an apprenticeship in wand making. It was fun, interesting and the job was pretty great too.

Ollivander and him bonded quickly over their interest in the art, gardening, and their hatred of Draco fucking Malfoy. Apparently being a prisoner in his mansion had earned the Malfoy heir no favours with the elderly wizard and that was bloody fine with Harry.

They have a whole little club and everything. Nothing official because even Ollivander agrees publicly antagonising Malfoy would be rather redundant in Harry's goal to try to minimise the prejudice of Slytherin house and other not so dark-affiliated things that have been blindly categorized as evil. But still. They have badges. Ron and Hermione has them. Ron's a premium member. Hermione's not because she told them they were being ridiculous.

She still has her badge though. So who was being ridiculous now?

(...It's still them.)

The point was, apart from the occasional guilty Malfoy-bashing fest with his friends and wand-making coworker, and the even guiltier late night wanking session, Harry Potter barely thought about the grey-eyed wizard. He had other things to do. Making his first batch of wands. Playing godfather to Teddy. Hanging out with his friends. Helping Ron pick out the perfect engagement ring. Helping Hermione pick out the perfect engagement ring. Placing bets to who proposed first.

He had even gone as far as to invent a new trend in Wizarding Britain. Wand charms. Pretty little things wrapped around the end of your wands which are delicately spelled with certain charms to help enhance a specific part of their magic. Of course, it's trickier than it sounds, as the trinkets, while nice to look at, were fairly limited and unpredictable in their magical capacity. There was a reason why wands were made from more organic materials after all.

Still, once Harry had gotten over the problem of accidentally exploding wands, the riddles of gem affinities and the whole magic drainage debacle, he had sold them to a very receptive public. He himself, enjoyed his creations greatly, his holly wand being quite the source of envy as it showed off all the prettiest designs. It was the only way for him to indulge in his guilty pleasure without feeling like such an abnormal freak.

Ollivander was especially impressed with his newest idea of bejeweled wand stickers, he even has a small swirl of shiny aquamarine gem stickers on his own wand which is imbued with calming charms for a steadier hand. Sometimes it makes the older man's spells turn an oddly blue hue but it more or less does what it's supposed to do.

It's quite profitable overall. Though the whole thing had too much of a bit of scam vibe for Harry's own liking. The trinkets were expensive and the magic in them only lasted for around three months before you either bought a new one or asked for them to be 'recharged' which costed a good nine sickles minimum. Still, Hermione said it was to be expected considering these were only the first batch, the prototypes, and no one seemed to be complaining too badly. Too busy being pleased with owning something their beloved saviour had handcrafted himself. Defeating Voldemort had to have some perks after all.

So yeah, he'd been busy. And distracted. And rather content overall. That's why, when Ron tentatively gave back his 'I Hate Malfoy' premium member badge one Friday evening at the bar, Harry had felt rather blindsided. "Ehm. Ron?"

The redhead coughed awkwardly, "I uh, I'm really sorry mate, I am."

Harry stares at him with dawning horror. "No." He denies. "It can't, no."

"The age of the Weasley-Malfoy blood feud is officially over," Ron tells him hesitantly, refusing to look into his best friend's eyes. Hermione beside him shifts awkwardly.

"I'll go get us another round shall I?" She piped in quickly before rushing out of the booth before Ron could grab her back down for support. Or as an eye witness to what Harry thinks may just become a murder. A friendship murder.

"Please tell me this is a really bad joke." He half begged, desperate for the lie. "I won't even try and strangle you if you do."

Ron looked like he very well wanted to take his words back. But Gryffindor courage and stubbornness wore through and he shook his head. "Nah mate." He says a little mournfully as he sips his Lazy Lager. "Jacob had a bad run-in with a cutting curse so he couldn't exactly do the leg work anymore, literally actually. Me and Malfoy have been auror partners for bout nine months. He actually saved my life a few times now."

Harry didn't know where to start. Well. He did. But it was all very painful just digesting the information. Like swallowing cracked glass. "Nine months?" He asks in a hurt, quiet, betrayed voice.

The Weasley coughed. "Mione told me to tell you sooner but I couldn't really, I mean, he was such a git in the beginning I didn't really want to talk about him much especially knowing how you hate him worse than me and then he did this heart to heart thing which was way too personal to speak of and then you got that amazing wand sticker idea which kind of pushed the whole telling you thing out of my mind and-"

Hermione put down three cups of something bright blue. Harry snatched two of them, drank one down like a shot and threw the other in Ron's face.

"-I deserve that," Ron muttered. Hermione tutted and took out some muggle wet wipes from her pocket.

"Yes, you did." She tells him before turning to Harry, apologetic. "I really did want to tell you Harry, but Ron insisted he be the one to do it and well..."

"Don't worry," Harry reassured, slowly dragging the last cup of the blue alcoholic beverage toward him as he gave Ron a dark look. "I'm not pissed at  _you_."

"Look, Malfoy's actually not a bad bloke-" Ron spluttered as Harry threw the drink at him a second time, "-I also deserve that."

"Hermione, please be a dear and get us another round or two." The not so Boy Who Lived asks sweetly, fishing out a few gold galleons. "I'm thinking fire whiskey and some liquid lightening."

Ron paled. Fire whiskey was uncomfortably hot when splashed onto one's face, and liquid lightening was like getting pins and needles wherever it touched. And woe be it for the poor saps who get it in their eyes. Hermione narrowed her eyes, "I'll get you a smoky sangria and an ash apple cider but that's it, Harry."

"Mione!"

"I'll take it."

Once she left again, Harry turned his attention to his slightly wet traitor of a friend. "Well, Ron? You got some other new best friend you're seeing as well? Pansy Parkinson? _Filch_ maybe? Oh, _oh_ have you contacted Professor Snape's spirit and started to relearn how to make a proper swelling solution?!"

Ron sighed, "See, I knew you would do this."

"Nine bloody months!" Harry yelled indignantly because this would be an overreaction if it was only one month, maybe three was just pushing it, but _nine?!_ The wanker is lucky Harry hasn't pulled his wand out yet.

What follows next is roughly an hour and a half of yelling, apologies, more yelling, arguing, enough alcohol to complete slosh Hagrid being thrown about, some tears and a very manly hug of reconciliation.

"I should've told ya." Ron weeps, smelling like a dog washed with alcohol and fruit syrup, not that Harry was in any better condition.

"You should've." Harry sniffled back, "I would've forgiven you... I think."

"Yer the b-best!" The redhead wailed, causing his friend to also yell, "No, you are the besht!" And began sobbing uncontrollably.

Hermione sighed and sipped on a frozen lake martini. "Boys." She tells her drink exasperatedly.

* * *

 

"You told Potter?!" Draco Malfoy screeched. Ron winced.

"You can't be that surprised. Harry's my best mate, I'm already in deep shit for not telling him sooner."

" _Harry_  Potter?!"

"No, Harrison Pottier, the French wizard famous for sealing an evil fairy with the power of friendship and his knitting needles- obviously Harry Potter you twat! Who else!"

Draco glared at his work partner. Ron glared back, his eyes bloodshot from what looked like a wicked hangover. The blonde pureblood wizard bit his lower lip, worrying it anxiously as he tried to settle his thoughts, "Did he... did he at least take it well?" He asks, immediately hating himself for sounding so whiny and pathetic. As if he cared or something.

Which he totally did, but that was hardly the point.

Ron laughs, a loud scoffing guffaw of sound and that hardly boded well. Draco tried not to let the sinking heavy feeling in his stomach show on his face. "Take it well? I think he would've taken me cheating on Hermione with, uh, your mother better. He at least likes her."

"…Oh." _Ouch._

"Yeah well, Harry'll get over it." Ron dismissed easily, "I mean, I've got some serious kissing up to do but Harry always gets over it. Bloke's the most forgiving guy ever."

The Malfoy forced himself to laugh alongside with Ron but secretly felt the ball of dread inside him grow larger. Saint Potter was always nice and merciful and all that other bullocks- so when he had actually refused to accept Draco's forgiveness back in fifth year, it was like a hippogriff to the face. Draco hadn't realized how much he had wanted to be forgiven, to make amends for his long time school rival until Potter had said no. Well, he had, obviously. But he just never realized how bloody much he had wanted it.

Sometimes the memory, Potter's angry distraught face, his biting cold words, the glitter of gold, it haunts him more than it really ought to.

* * *

The thing is, once Harry sobered up and had an incredibly horrible hangover, he didn't speak to Ron for a whole three weeks. It wasn't his fault. He had been very busy.

Sulking.

But then he decided to get over it. It's been three years since they graduated, everyone's grown up and maybe Harry should suck it up too. He's not happy about it. But neither is Ron and Hermione with his pointed silence, especially in the past few days which is really more important.

Also, Hermione sent him a howler. So.  _Yeah_.

"I don't want to make friends with Malfoy, Garrick." Harry groans as he and Ollivander began opening up their shop for the day. "He's such a fucking prick."

"No one said you have to be friends with that awful boy," The old wizard tsked as he surveyed one of the wands on the display window critically. With a muttered 'accio' he summoned a small jar of circular pearls imbued with charms that would help strengthen a light affiliated magical core or magnify the power of light magic-based spells. Ollivander stuck them on the wand in a nice lazy wave pattern coiling up from the handle to the very top of the dark wood of the wand and nodded satisfactorily at the result. "You just have to accept that the Weasley is friends with him. Like how Ronald still talks with his mouth full of food or swears up natural disasters, it will just be one of his many faults."

Harry hums thoughtfully. "I could do that." He says. It seemed easy enough. And best of all it meant he didn't have to pretend to feign comfortability around Malfoy. No one said he had to be on good terms with his friends' friends. Harry beams at his mentor. "You're the best Garrick. Cheers."

* * *

"Darling I do love you so but you must desist all this whining about Harry Potter." Narcissa Malfoy sighs, taking another sip of her mango berry martini. Honestly, it was like Hogwarts all over again. When she told Lucius about this on her monthly trip to Azkaban, he had laughed for the first time in years.

"But _mother_ ," Draco whined, "I bet he still absolutely loathes me."

"I don't blame him." She mutters into her fruity beverage. Say whatever you want about mudbloods, but they are very skilled in the art of alcoholic concoctions.

" _Mother_!"

"What do you _want_ from me little dragon?" The witch groans, "You're turning twenty-three, you've been in war, your auror mission success rates are one of the highest this year and yet you refuse to confront your schoolboy crush who you've been violently pulling pigtails with since Potter finally got sick of it. Seriously Draco, have you even considered my advice at all these past two weeks?"

Draco scoffed, "You can't be serious mother. The idea is ludicrous."

"Trying to be nice to Harry Potter is... ludicrous." She deadpans in a manner Severus would've been proud of.

Merlin, she missed the sour man. He certainly would make her stubborn boy listen. Lucius might've been successful but he's in Azkaban. Also, if he couldn't get Draco to stop his obsession for those seven years, she hardly believes he could do it now when his son's respect for him has never been lower.

"What am I supposed to do? Pop in unannounced at his workplace?" Narcissa rolled her eyes at her son's sarcastic disbelieving tone. She loved Draco, she did, but sometimes she wonders how her poor child managed to make it alive as long as he did. Especially around Potter.

"Considering his workplace is reliant on people 'popping in' to achieve monetary gains and stay afloat, I don't think my idea is as abhorrent as you seem to find it to be darling."

"Please, as if I would try such a thing," He sniffed haughtily before muttering an almost silent, "…again."

Narcissa raised a delicate eyebrow and sipped her martini.

"Fucking Ollivander and his stupid wards." Draco hissed under his breath but it was still enough for Narcissa to hear. She had very good hearing. You had to be to survive childhood with Bellatrix as your sister.

"May I once again ask  _why_  exactly Harry Potter hates you so?" She questions patiently for the thirteenth time this week. If Narcissa got paid a Knut every time she asked this question in the last three or so years, she's fairly sure she would be as rich as she had been before this damned war started. "I've heard that he's forgiven pretty much everybody, Severus despite killing Dumbledore, Pansy Parkinson for pointing him out to the Dark Lord, Goyle despite being... Goyle."

Draco hunched in on himself just like every other time he had been asked. It spikes her curiosity every time. What on earth could her boy have done?

She wasn't wrong about Potter's forgiveness. Once he'd told her at one of the celebration galas that he forgave Voldemort in a weird way, felt sorry for him he did. Something about being similar or almost the same or some such babble. It was baffling. Whatever Draco did must've been both incredibly personal to the wizard saviour and yet relatively inconsequential in terms of life-threatening direness. Potter certainly seems to be pretty forgiving about threats to his life.

"Draco," she sighs, "if you really want to make amends with Harry Potter, you're going have to play  _nice_." She stresses the last word forcefully because a charming Draco was usually not a Draco nearby Potter. "You're friends with Weasley. There's your connection. Use it and don't abuse it."

"I am friends with Weasley." Draco repeats, a little in surprise. Narcissa can't blame him. She still couldn't get over it either. Ronald Weasley had come over to Malfoy Mansion three months into her son's work partnership with him, and she had instinctively slammed the door on his face. The older witch had apologised about that afterwards but it was still very mortifying to remember her faux pas. "Weasley who is best friends with H- Potter."

Narcissa sipped her martini delicately and said nothing while the makings of a plan formed in her son's head.

"I've got to go." He says abruptly, quickly pecking her on the cheek and practically running out of the room. Probably to send an owl to Weasley.

She smiles.

* * *

 

Harry frowns.

"Ron." He says low and angry. It's the second week since Harry had deigned to talk to Ron again since he had told him about his new-old friendship with a certain blond git. The whole thing still smarts a bit but the past fortnight Ron had been practically plying him with friendship until Harry's inner child felt gorged silly with happiness. "Why is Malfoy sitting in our booth?"

He should've known it was all a trick.

Hermione blinks before turning to a sheepish looking redhead and hisses, "Are you _serious_ Ronald? You didn't tell Harry?!"

"I uh, forgot?" Ron replies weakly.

Harry stares down at Ron, then at Malfoy who was trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "I'm leaving." He tells the trio, stepping back and turning around.

Ron jumps up, "Harry wait, don't leave!" He pleads, running up to Harry's retreating figure.

The wizard saviour swivels angrily to face his friend. "Really?!" He hisses, "I cannot believe you are pulling this shit with me right now, Merlin!"

"He's really not such a bad bloke Harry," Ron implores, "I know he was absolutely horrible back in school but Malfoy's grown up, I fucking swear it mate."

Harry snarls like an animal in response.

"Come on, please," The redhead begs, "It was killing me hiding Malfoy from you. Absolutely tearing me apart. Seriously, I'll pay for all the drinks you want, even for the ones you throw at me."

Harry narrows his eyes, "That's a lot of drinks Ron Weasley."

Ron smirks, "Well that just means your going to be stuck here with us for a while longer than Harry Potter."

They stare at each other, neither moving for a whole minute until Harry gives in with an ungracious scowl. "Fine. But you better be right about him having grown up Ron. Or you might find your bullocks where your tongue used to be."

The freckled wizard pales, "Noted."

They walks back to the booth where Hermione and Malfoy uncomfortably sat face to face with each other. Ron gave a wide rather overcompensatingly friendly smile and sat by his girlfriend. Harry stood, lingering as he realizes the only other free spot was next to the person he hates the most that was still alive. Was Umbridge still alive actually? He bloody well hopes not.

"Come on Potter," Malfoy drawls, "I don't bite."

Harry felt his expression twist into something grim as he fought to keep the heat off his cheeks just imaging Draco Malfoy… biting. Reluctantly he sat down next to his long time school rival but refused to look at him, instead choosing to glare balefully at Ron. "Hermione, you know which drinks I like to throw, can you please get some?" He asks calmly, "Put it on Ron's tab of course."

Hermione, visibly amused, complies, "Of course." She repeats, a little too gleefully. Harry has to wonder if this is some sort of vicarious stress relief or something for her. Goodness knows how many times she told him how some of her fellow Ministry coworkers could use a drink in the face or eight.

When she left, a tense, uncomfortable silence settled on their table. Malfoy was staring so hard at Harry that Harry could feel it but he refuses to give in and look back. He may just be a wandmaker's apprentice right now, working on a Charms mastery with his spelled jewelry but he is still the same stubborn Gryffindor who killed this generation's dark lord twice over. So fuck Malfoy. And fuck Ron. He was going to bask in this suffocatingly awkward tension until he dies if he has to.

"So," Malfoy cleared his throat, "uh, how is... your business?"

"Master _Ollivander'_ s business," Harry replied coldly, "is doing _very_ well thank _you_."

There's a pause before Ron coughs and tries to salvage something from the failure of a conversation. "And the opal charms you're working on Harry? They still giving you a bitch of a time?"

Harry groans instinctively at the memory, he had spent three hours today fiddling with the damn stones before giving up. "Like you wouldn't believe. Did you know-" and the next thing he knew he was on a fifteen-minute rant about how bloody finicky opals- especially the ones with the yellow sheen for some bloody reason- absolutely refused to do a single shitting thing other than making your wand hand itch.

"It actually did give me an idea though." Harry enthusiastically tells his friends and, indirectly, Malfoy. "Watch this."

With careful, sharp arm movements Harry presses the fingers of his right hand together and to everyone's astonishment, the tips of his fingers begin to light up. "Lumos." Harry tells them proudly, just saying the word brightens up the light to a familiar glow.

"Wha- how?" For once Hermione looked rather stumped.

Harry relaxes his hand, breaking the spell, and twisted it around so everyone could see his fingers. Wiggling them, his nails glinted gold under the lights, small pearls glimmering and glowing decorated on them.

"Nail decorations enchanted to help with the simple wandless spell." He says in his favorite sleek salesman voice. Harry secretly calls it the Gilderoy Lockhart. "For the fashion-forward aurors who struggle. Or for the every day wizards, I don't know- the tagline is a work in process."

"Holy fuck Harry that's incredible!" Ron gasps, "Seriously mate, when the fuck did you get so smart?"

Harry made a ' _psh_ ' sound but he knew he probably looked as smug as he felt, "I guess right about when Voldemort stopped harassing my education." It's half true, he had gotten outstandings in Defense and Charms at the end of the year, his charmwork had improved exponentially in that short time just like his interest in it. But it was an awful tacky muggle magazine for teenage girls called TeenZeen that really was the source of his inspirations, in fact, he still subscribed to them secretly under a different name. For research. Obviously.

"This could really revolutionize people's way of thinking," Hermione says, it feels like an exaggeration, it was just nail art with an extra zing to it. "Wandless magic won't be something out of reach for the average wizard anymore. No one would mindlessly depend on their wands!"

"Whoa-hey." Harry protests a little defensively. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You know what I mean Harry. I didn't mean to forgo wands altogether Merlin, I just meant that simple spells such as Expelliarmus wouldn't stump even the most proficient of wizards. Those aurors in America have been practicing both wandless and wordless casting you know?"

"Fucking yankees." Ron grumbles, clearly very aware about the proficiency of the magical law on the other side of the pond thanks to his girlfriend. Then the redhead perks up, "Hey, how powerful can you make those?"

Harry shrugs, "They're just more portable versions of my wand charms really, it depends on a lot of things about the user. All it really does is act as a conduit to your skin instead of wood, but of course, stones are different from the usual wand cores."

Hermione and Ron nod sagely, having spent a lot of time listening to Harry rant about gems and stones and their undervalued magical abilities. Malfoy however was not as well informed.

"Uhm.. what is the difference between using stones and wand cores?" The ex-death eater asks tentative and polite.

Harry stares blankly, he had honestly almost forgotten Malfoy was there he had been so quiet. He considers completely ignoring the other wizard completely but then decides against it. Ron did practically beg him to take a chance after all. "Wand cores are usually from magical creatures," He tells Malfoy, but carefully avoids looking too much in his direction. He was giving the guy a chance but it wasn't going to be a particularly big one dammit. "So magic can be more easily channeled and amplified through the wood that provides a good insulator for said magic. Stones, however, are a mix of both, essentially they're good for storing magic."

"That's why there's so many long-lasting cursed jewellery and other such objects." Malfoy says understandingly. Harry glances at him, surprised. Malfoy immediately catches the look and visibly preens, the smug prick.

The green-eyed wizard coughs, ignoring the faint heat on his cheeks in favour of sipping his drink. "Ah, yes, that's right. Anyway, I've found that certain stones can absorb certain spells which would um, essentially catalyse a person's magic, requiring less effort, exertion and focus needed to cast spells. However at best right now it only shows visible effects for basic to lower mid-level spells or just helping calm erratic magic and wand movements…" Harry sighed, taking a larger gulp of his Lackadaisical Lager. There's near nothing like what he has invented already, the closest things are cursed objects but you could hardly control them, so research to further his goals is a little difficult, even with Olliviander and Hermione's help.

Silence descended once again. Hermione slipped out to gather more drinks, the smart witch that she is. The green-eyed boy could see the silent conversation happening between the two aurors, even if he refused to glance at the one beside him, the silent desperation was palpable enough. The conversation must have turned into an argument because there's the unmistakable sound of someone trying to kick someone else under the table but missing and hitting the table instead.

Malfoy gave a short hiss of breath. Well, that answers who then. Harry had to hide his smile at that, it wouldn't do to encourage further outings such as this one. Ron winces, apparently, Malfoy has been successful the second time round, before the redhead blinked, grins and began opening his auror bag to shuffle through it.

"Was hoping to bring out the big guns a little later when things got real dire but I guess I overestimated how well this was going to go rather badly." The Weasley mutters. "Ah- _hah_!"

"Oh Ron." Hermione sighs fondly as she levitates a bunch of drinks onto their table. Harry snatches up two of the ash apple ciders and swallows down a shot of He Who Must Not Be Sipped. It tastes like burning sugar and apparently, there was some sort of very mild snake poison in there that numbed the senses a little. Ironically one of Harry's favourite drinks. "You're already pulling out your secret weapon?"

"Unless you could think of something to salvage this bloody night then be my guest Mione."

Hermione hums thoughtfully before pecking her boyfriend on the cheek, "Oh, go on then."

Harry's eyebrows shoot up as Ron slowly reveals a large chain of silver, and his eyes glitters under the shine of the pendant. "Is that?" He breaths, instantly entranced.

"Handcrafted by Thimbleclaw himself," Ron announces proudly. "Me and Malfoy saved him from being framed for a triple homicide and going to Azkaban, so he kind of owes us a favour or two."

"It's beautiful." Harry gasps. It was a choker necklace, the thick silver chains shone even under the dim bar lighting but it was the large pendant in the middle that really caught the wizard's eye. Petals upon petals of shimmering green emeralds seem to emerge from the flower, something akin to a lotus in design. At its centre sat a orange-yellow stone that glowed faintly. Even better was that everything seemed to be dusted with gold. Fucking gold. Harry was a weak, weak bitch. "Holy shit, gimme."

Ron laughs, "Knew you would like it." He says as he passes it to him. Harry grabs for it greedily.

"Like it?" Harry could feel his sour mood lifting as he reverently traced the gleam of the chain. On closer inspection, the gold speckled dust was actually inside the emerald petals, moving slowly like they were encased in a lazy river. "I love it."

"Enough to stay for an hour or two with Malfoy?" Hermione asks slyly.

Harry scoffs, "Please, I would gladly get down on my knees right now and blow Malfoy for this necklace."

Beside him, Malfoy made a very loud noise akin to being strangled. Ron makes a face. "Yeah, uh, I think just the sitting and talking thing is all we're asking for."

Malfoy must have done or muttered something contrary because this time it was Ron who kicked Malfoy in the shin. "Shut up, Malfoy." Ron hisses. Not that Harry really noticed.

The mood inevitably got much lighter after that. Hermione talked about some Ministry bill about more efficiently classifying dark creatures which involved a bunch of aurors flanking some magizoologists around occasionally which sparked a very hearty debate between them all. Harry even bantered with Malfoy for a bit and didn't once think about throwing his drink in the other's face.

Well okay, he did, but instinctual thoughts don't count.

"All I'm saying is that all snakes are actually rather harmless as long your polite enough and you offer them some sort of treat." Harry says, "They're like cats really."

"Says the one wizard that used to speak to snakes," Malfoy drawls with an amused quirk of the lips.

"No, seriously-" Harry chuckles, "You have to ask Hermione- Riddle adores her."

"Riddle?" The blonde pureblood questions, then immediately pales, "Wait, you don't mean Tom Riddle?"

Ron laughs heartily as he catches the conversation, "Yeah, Harry's got two gigantic snakes- Vipermort Riddle and Severus Snake. It's _hilarious_."

Hermione rolls her eyes but it was obvious she was hiding a smile in her glass of fire whiskey. "Yes, apparently Harry's decided all the people he had once hated that are now dead should be forever memorialised in the names of his pets."

Malfoy laughs, "I'm surprised you didn't name one after me." He half-joked.

"Please," Harry smirks, "I have enough on my plate with both my work and two incredibly clingy, selfish reptiles to add another snake into my home." And then with a quiet mutter, he added into his drink, "Also because you're not dead.. yet."

There's a short silence and then Ron bursts into drunken laughter. One by one, Harry, then Hermione and finally even Malfoy himself saw the dark humour in it and laughed. It helped that alcohol had effectively lowered their standards for jokes immensely.

Draco Malfoy had a really nice laugh.

Woah. Apparently, Harry's standards for his sense of humour is not the _only thing_ dropping here.

Absentmindedly he strokes the chain of the necklace he had wrapped around his fingers with his thumb. It's a marvelous gift. It's almost a tragedy not to wear it, but he knows that unless he was at his most bold- or drunk- there was no way he could bring himself to do so. Still, just knowing he has such a beautiful treasure in his grasp, made just for him from, was almost as good as putting it around his neck.

Looking back now, he hadn't been subtle in his obvious obsession with the glamorous accessory, Harry could acknowledge that. Still, when he caught Malfoy staring at him while he brushes his knuckles against the object reverently for what was probably the nth time that night, Harry could not help the buzz of surprise and the icy cold feeling of dread and fear from gripping his throat. Quickly he tries to look away, focusing instead on Ron's rather rambling story about some case about a magical tuba.

"Why don't you put it on, Potter?" Malfoy asks quietly.

Harry immediately snaps his head up at the suggestion like Malfoy had been screaming at him instead of the low murmur he had used. The Man Who Conquered flushes, mortified to have gotten so easily distracted, to have let himself go so fucking quickly that he had once again revealed to Malfoy his freakish tendencies.

He looks down at the table where his hands were clenched around the necklace. The tips of the flower pendant were sharp and unforgiving but it was a welcome pain relative to his own embarrassment and self-loathing.

"I think it would look ah, really good on you."

Tears pricked Harry's eyes but he refused to let them fall. He was a grown man for fuck's sake. "Fuck off Malfoy," He snarls before standing up. "I'm leaving."

"Harry," Hermione says sadly, "Draco didn't, he didn't mean to-"

"Leaving," Harry repeats firmly if a tad wobbly. He looks at Ron, " _Never_ do this again."

And he leaves.

"At least he took the gift," Ron says consolingly, though he looked just as glum as his girlfriend.

* * *

 

Harry throws himself into his work, his godfather duties, and his two worried snakes. The pearl nail stickers for enhancing wandless light magic spells and the runic bead nail stickers for simple elemental conjuring spells were a huge hit in the shop, and the onyx nail stickers for enhancing darker magic was pending Ministry approval to sell.

Teddy was overjoyed at his custom made wand accessory. It was a blood red vampire inspired band around the middle of his wand with bat wings that could actually fly back to its owner when called. Harry personally thought it was a bit tacky but Teddy was in a bit of a goth phase and adored it. He's got a few jealous friends and acquaintances asking for one too, Harry's thinking of maybe doing a fairy and angel themed one for variety. A butterfly one too, for color.

And Severus and Vipermort, sensing his current mood, had plied the wizard with incredibly clingy affection, literally. Harry had a whole weekend where he was pretty much wearing the gigantic creatures. They were heavy too, so they mainly spent the day wasting away watching television and reading. It was nice.

For fun Harry designed larger 'Wand Wings' so they fit his snakes, Severus didn't seem particularly pleased flapping around with three pairs of batwings strapped on him but Vipermort seemed quite taken with his skeletal ones. He thinks Vipermort mostly enjoyed it for the expressions he got when Harry thought it would be hilarious to bring the two flying serpents out for a test drive to the nearest magical park. He had invited Hermione, Ron, Luna, and Neville for a nice picnic too, which perked Severus right up because ironically the snake rather adored Neville.

Un-ironically Neville was still a little scared of Severus. Mostly because Severus was a gigantic black snake that enjoys intimidating people and pretending to bite them. "-though he's still nicer than the real Snape had ever been to me." Neville confesses as he scratches the chin of the serpent, bat wings flapping furiously to keep the heavy creature off the ground.

"Vipermort Riddle is also much sweeter than his namesake," Luna comments dreamily as she hand feeds the equally gigantic albino snake a whole roast chicken. Hermione was petting the pale scales and looking thoughtfully at the charms in the wing design Harry had crafted.

"Harry, this is actually amazing." Hermione praises, "How are the wings being controlled for moving around though?"

Harry grinned sheepishly, "That one I cheated a little bit with." He confessed as he held up his arm revealing a simple leather bracelet with two metal charms on them. One had bat wings engraved into it, while the other had skeletal wings. "The wings are always within a meter, two at most, of their respective charms. They became erratic if I adjust the distance any further." He confesses. Teddy's charm is much simpler, it just has an inbuilt summoning charm to it.

"Hmm... well have you thought about-" and quickly enough the pair began a very in-depth conversation about charms and runes with the occasional input from Luna who had probably traveled more than any of them combined. Ron had a few things to say in the beginning about security spells but other than that got bored and began chatting about dangerous plants with Neville. It was a nice afternoon with good food, his friends and his snakes.

So Harry really shouldn't be surprised that Malfoy managed to somehow pop out of nowhere. Honestly, he doesn't show up for about three years and suddenly he's everywhere.

"Potter?" Harry glanced up instinctively at the name before doing a double take.

"Malfoy?! What are you-" his mouth fails him as his eyes lower down from Malfoy's surprised face to what is clearly a sweat-soaked grey muggle t-shirt that is at least one size too tight. Holy fuck. Clearly, Ron has not been keeping up with his auror gym plan and or has been deceiving Harry horribly.

Malfoy is, well, he's fit as fuck. Toned muscular forearms that fit nicely with broad shoulders and his tall build, his legs are just as nice, if not arguably better. Harry briefly wonders where that thin little rich boy who cried hippogriff murder from his childhood had gone. Squished somewhere between those muscles most likely.

Malfoy raised his eyebrow and cocked his hip defensively. Harry's mouth may have gotten a little dry but that's because it was hot outside. Not at all because Harry can see a stripe of exposed skin from the movement, capturing the line of the Slytherin's hip bone quite nicely. "My new apartment isn't that far from here, so I exercise in this park regularly."

"I... see," Harry says rather dumbly.

"I've never seen Ron do that," Hermione says a little wistfully as she eyes the way the fabric of the sweaty shirt stretches against Malfoy's chest. Vipermort glances at the newcomer and then turns away distastefully, apparently just not as impressed at what his master and his master's friend sees.

As if only just noticing the massive white snake with wings only a thestral would have found attractive, Malfoy seemed to pale and take half a step back. "Merlin's balls!" He exclaimed, "That thing looks like the dark lord!" Malfoy stares at it again before adding, "Actually, That thing looks like it ate the dark lord."

Vipermort rears his head up- a hard feat since he was essentially balancing on air, then again, snakes are like ninety percent muscle- and hisses his displeasure. In response, Severus flaps over to his fellow serpentine companion and hisses angrily in support, always eager for a fight. Malfoy looks appropriately alarmed.

"Wha- did they understand me?!" He asks a little too shrilly to be considered post-pubescent.

Harry laughed but shook his head. His snakes may be smart but they only know a few words of English, usually pertaining to feeding or cuddles. "Nah Malfoy, they have not the foggiest idea what you said. They're just sensitive to insults." Fondly the green-eyed wizard strokes his two scaly beasts who preened under the attention. :Who are my most gorgeous treasures hm?: he hisses.

 _:Isn't it obvious master?:_ Severus questions like Harry is an incompetent student.

 _:It's us of course.:_ Vipermort hisses confidently, arrogance oozing from every scale. Sometimes Harry wonders if these two were the actual reincarnations of their namesake but then they go do something cute like demand cuddles or try and seduce one of Harry's patterned socks, and the resemblance stops there.

 _:Of course it's you,:_ Harry assured them, _:Now why don't you both see if Ron has any more food for you two to eat.:_

 _:The spotted one does have much prey.:_ Vipermort agrees. _:He is good hunter.:_

 _:The spotted one is an incompetent idiot, he relies on his females for food.:_ Severus hisses derisively. He was always the more observant one, also the more judgemental. Classic Severus. _:But we shall take the spotted one's prey either way.:_ The black snake decides. Vipermort hisses his displeasure at the other serpent taking charge but follows suit anyway and they both leave. Or they try to anyway.

"Oh shit, Hermione could you?"

"We really need to fix this two-meter thing with those wings." She says amusedly, Harry laughs and throws her his leather bracelet with the charms. Hermione smiles but gives him an odd look as she leaves and that's really when it sinks in that Malfoy and he was technically alone together.

The easy smile doesn't do much as slip off his face as it strains into a grimace. The wizard savior raises his chin defiantly at Malfoy and asks, "What are you still doing here Malfoy?"

"I," The blonde seems a little dazed, "You still speak parseltongue?"

Harry raises an eyebrow but shrugs anyway. It's not like other people hadn't been curious about how his little skill was still around despite the owner of said skill being vanquished. "You could say Voldemort's soul essentially carved the information into my brain," He explains, tapping the side of his forehead for emphasis, "killing him essentially hindered the pathway to get the information but it was still there. I didn't realize it but I could still understand bits and pieces, couldn't talk it though, had to relearn it." Harry makes a face, "I can't say names in parseltongue anymore either which is awful because then everyone knows I'm gossiping to them."

"Oh." Malfoy says, and then with a deeper voice he adds, " _Wow_."

The green-eyed wizard raises his other eyebrow, joining up with the first, still raised one. Most people react a little bit… more than that. Not going to lie, a little underwhelming.

"Uh-huh." Harry glances back where his friends were. Shit, they were bringing out Molly's famous seven-layered cake. "Look I'm uh, going to go.."

"Ah." And fuck Harry wasn't even aware Malfoy could look so sad and rejected and pitiful. "Yeah, go have fun with your friends Potter." Shit, shit, did he have to say it like that? Why is it no matter how long it's been Malfoy always knows how to worm underneath his skin?

Harry bites his lip and looks up to the sky for strength. The sky, unfortunately, provides many things, but strength was not one of them so Harry crumples as Malfoy turns to leave. "Wait." He calls out defeatedly. "Why don't you…" Harry hesitates. He really doesn't understand why a part of him wants to do this. "Why don't you join us?"

Malfoy for a second looked so childishly hopeful it hurt, and Harry immediately felt guilting for wishing he would say no. Maybe Malfoy had changed. He was friends with Ron for fucks sakes. Of course he must have changed. Then the blonde schooled his expression into something blank, with a hint of a sneer because Harry's fairly sure that sneer would be forever ingrained in the wizard no matter what has happened these past few years. "I don't need your pity Potter." He tells Harry firmly.

Harry sighs, "If it was just pity I certainly wouldn't give it to you Malfoy." He tells him truthfully, "I'm inviting you because somehow you're Ron's friend, and maybe Hermione's friend too. And a little because I might want to try being your… not enemy as well."

"..Huh."

The raven-haired wizard made a soft huff of amusement at the response, "Really, where has your oh so eloquent insults gone Malfoy," He teased a little awkwardly, it's an odd feeling, making jest of the other without malice or resentment, "Lost your forked tongue since school I see."

"Says, says the parselmouth." Malfoy tentatively shoots back, his mouth making a twitching motion like he's suppressing a smile. Harry tries to give the other an encouraging smile and gestures him to follow. Malfoy does.

* * *

After that, things become.. different.

Well, it wasn't that different. Harry was definitely a shoo-in for a charms mastery thanks to his charming new inventions but he was still quite happy apprenticing for Garrick and selling wands and his wand charms to everyone. Hermione was still swimming up the waterfall that was Ministry bureaucracy. Ron was kicking ass and taking names with his partner in not-crime Draco frigging Malfoy.

But now instead of the usual trio hanging out in the bar on Fridays, it was a quartet. Malfoy and Harry were something akin to friends. At the very least friendly acquaintances. They have some inside jokes and more than occasionally Harry finds himself kind of deeply enjoying their conversations, especially when his two best friends are too busy being sweet on each other to notice him.

Sometimes Hermione has some meeting to go to, or Ron has auror paperwork he, in true Ron Weasley style, left until the very last minute to finish, and instead of Harry spending another sad Friday night alone in his house with his snakes, he goes to the bar instead. Because Malfoy never misses Friday Bar night. Which is weird because Harry would've assumed the other wizard would have the same amount of work as Ron.

Maybe Malfoy was just crazy efficient. Harry could see that.

It's a nice change either way. Harry could even say he looked forward to the times it was just him and Malfoy, they don't talk about the past but of stupid things like what would you do if the world got overrun by magical man-eating plants, or if bugs actually had feelings and what sort of animal they would be if they were animagi. The answers to those questions were, after careful deliberation, at least three mugs of AlleyCat Ale, four shots of Vibrating Vodka, and one very long argument- they would make sure to stick to Neville and never let go, and bugs obviously do have feelings even cockroaches, yes, fuck you Malfoy.

Also, Harry was, in Malfoy's opinion, a raven or a snake. Raven snake.

Malfoy was, in Harry's opinion, a cat.

"A cat Potter?!" Malfoy says, half mocking, half genuinely outraged. "Really?"

Harry makes a giggly hiccuping noise, "A small white one." He slurs before giving into his hiccupy laughter again. "All sensitive and fussy and cute."

The blond pureblood flushes, it must be hard to have such pale skin. Ron has pale skin too and he gets red so fast he might as well have caught on fire. Malfoy, Harry thinks a little blearily, doesn't go red so much as a nice pale pink. Like peaches. Harry rather likes peaches.

"You, uh, do huh?" Malfoy strangles out, and that's when Harry realises he might have said that one out loud. Oops.

The green-eyed wand maker nods and Malfoy goes an even darker shade of pink. Ripe and ready for picking. With a slurred murmur of juiciness, Harry shuffles closer to the other wizard and bites the crook of Malfoy's neck, nothing too hard but enough to indent the skin for a while. Instead of sweetness though, the taste of Malfoy's skin is salty, Harry licks it a few times just to make sure, oblivious to the hitching of the blond's breath.

"Potter?" Malfoy gasps out like he's just finished sprinting from a manticore, "I think you've had a little too much to drink."

Harry just laughs huffily in agreement against Malfoy's chest.

There's a moment of tense hesitation in the other's body before an arm jerkily pats Harry's back a few times before squeezing him into a one-armed hug. A low, gentle, "Let's get you back to my place okay Harry?" is all Harry hears before everything goes blurry and dark.

* * *

The thing is, Harry certainly didn't want to like Malfoy. He didn't want to be friends with him. And he certainly didn't want to be deeply, furiously attracted to him.

So it certainly galls him when he realizes all three things had effectively happened.

The epiphany hit him hard and fast and rather out of the blue, like realising you caught the snitch in your mouth after a fall off the broom. It was just another Saturday morning, Harry had woken up in silk blue sheets from the bed of Draco Malfoy's spare room in his apartment, a place that he was becoming increasingly familiar with. Harry had woken up, stumbling into one of his old, cleaned shirts he had left behind a while back, and wanders into the kitchen where Malfoy was grumpily looking at the Daily Prophet with a cup of tea in hand.

"Morning Malfoy." He greets cheerily despite the ache in his head from the night before.

"Blargh." Malfoy replies intelligibly back, his eyes never leaving the paper. Harry's fairly sure the other man wasn't even reading whatever the Prophet was fussing over now, just trying to let his bleary eyes focus on the words. Harry doesn't even bother to hide his grin at Malfoy's morning attitude, it wasn't like Draco was going to see it anyway.

With a jaunty tune on his lips, Harry slips onto the seat opposite Malfoy, flashing him a bright sunny grin to match the bright and sunny morning much to the other's visible disgust. "It never fails to be funny how much you're not a morning person Malfoy."

The other man just grumbles into his tea, apparently, seven-fifteen in the morning was too early for conversation. His hair was just as rumpled as his pajamas, and Malfoy looks like a hot mess as he tried to sludge through his caffeine. Harry summoned some strawberry yogurt- Malfoy started keeping a tub of Harry's preferred brand two weeks after the first time he'd slept over- and sighed fondly at the endearing sight.

He really likes Malfoy.

Merlin.

What was he going to tell Garrick?

* * *

 

"You are such a foolish boy," Olliviander bemoans as they got ready to open up shop for another day, "I thought the making of badges was your young wizard version of blood promises."

"I mean, it's really not? And I'm sorry Garrick, s'not like I _meant_ to think Malfoy's hot."

The old wizard makes a disapproving clicking sound with his mouth, "Don't play with me Harry, I already knew you thought that dastardly boy was attractive, it's the fact that you are interested in his insides that upset me so."

Harry flushes, was he really that obvious? "He has changed." He protests weakly.

Olliviander mutters something that sounds very unkind to Malfoy's parentage before sighing, "A few years has been the longest I've ever held a grudge of this size to someone, I suppose it's time to let it go."

Harry blinks at him. "Wha- that can _not_ be all it takes for you to get over your problems with Draco Malfoy."

The wandmaker blinks back lazily, "Yes."

"Merlin, are you, you cannot be serious."

"Well, it'll take a little bit, I would probably have to meet him to make sure, but yes, I am now, for all intents and purposes, over it." Ollivander smiles serenely and Harry briefly wonders if the old wizard is a legitimate psycho or everyone else is just doing life wrong. "I am very old Harry if I held a grudge for everything I'm fairly sure I would be dead by now."

"Oh. I'll uh, take your word for it then Garrick."

"Oh and Harry?"

"Yes, Garrick?"

"If that young man breaks your heart, I'll break his wand."

Harry laughs, "Garrick, I hardly think getting another wand would be that hard. I appreciate the sentiment though." Harry shakes his head but is touched nonetheless. Even it wasn't exactly a violent threat, he figures for a wandmaker like him, it must mean a lot to destroy someone's wand especially one of his own. Harry knows the man had been incredibly appalled at the number of wands that had exploded when he'd first started experimenting with his wand charms.

Garrick chuckles too as he picks up another wand on display. Mildly he says, "That wasn't the sort of wand I meant."

Oh.

Huh.

_Go, Garrick._

* * *

 

The problem was, after deciding to accept he was holding real non-negative feelings for Draco Malfoy, acting on them. Luckily for Harry, he has friends.

"Oh, hah, Merlin," Ron wheezes, struggling for breath as he holds his stomach like he's in pain. Harry stares down at Ron impassionately, dearly hoping he has hurt himself. Maybe he can hurt Ron. That'll at least stop him from laughing like he has been for the past five minutes. " _Merlin_ , you, I cannot, my sides,  _fuck_ , hah, really?"

"I should've gone to Hermione first," Harry tells him with disgust, "You are useless

"Oh Harry, no don't, ha, don't be that way," Ron says between chortles. "C'mon, let's, let's talk about your crush on-" he bursts into laughter all over again. Harry scowls. It isn't that funny.

He waits for the laughter to dissipate before looking Ron straight in the eye, "I'm going to tell Hermione you laughed at me. And she's going to let me order all the firewhiskey and liquid lightning to throw in your face, using your own tab."

That sobers Ron right up.

"Mate. You  _wouldn't_."

Harry hums noncommittally and pretends to check out his latest nail art. He used gold leaf to print out specific protection runes and a base coat that used finely crushed pearls for increased wit and charm for the wielder. Apparently, items that boost attractiveness, luck, wisdom, and health were very trendy. Not to mention, the effect wasn't as gaudy as his last attempt using crushed sapphires for wisdom and riches. That was both an incredibly expensive and embarrassing failure. He'd been stuck with bright sparkly blue nails for a month.

And the only thing they did was glow a bit in the dark when he used magic. Glow and twinkle. Harry cannot even. He accidentally called it the Dumbledore and now he's emotionally attached to the idea and refuses to let it die like it belongs. It's a work in progress.

"Well," Harry finally says, because he's learning to be a mature person and a good friend, "I guess I could be persuaded to shut my mouth  _if_  somebody was willing to scope out Draco Malfoy's situation."

Ron, because he's frankly incredibly immature and just a terrible friend to everyone, scoffs, "Seriously? Have you  _seen_  Draco Malfoy? He spends all his paycheck on hair products and his tri-yearly spa trip. Clearly, his situation is hella fucking gay, but you know, like, the posher version of that."

Harry rubs his forehead, "Okay, one, that doesn't necessarily mean he's gay-"

"You're right," Ron says thoughtfully, "I mean, you're pretty gay and your hair is a right mess."

" _Two_ ," Harry stresses, "Just because he's gay, doesn't mean we might necessarily… uh, fit in terms of tastes."

Ron nods sagely, "Ah, I see, you wanna see if Draco wants to ride the broom or be the broom."

"I hate that you made this about quidditch," Harry groans, flushing red, before admitting quietly, "But yeah, pretty much. Also the type of quidditch player they're into if you know what I mean."

" _Oh_ , I know  _exactly_  what you mean," Ron exaggeratedly winks with a wide grin. "Merlin, I'm actually sort of excited actually. Can I do this for every bloke you're interested in after Malfoy?"

"I don't like the implications that you already expect this nonexistent relationship to fail but yeah, sure, we'll see."

Ron was actually rubbing his hands together in glee. "Yesssss _sss_ ,"

"Actually I changed my mind, I'm calling Hermione-"

"Nup, nope, you already agreed mate! Can't go back on your word Mr. Wizard Saviour, it would be very unheroic and all."

"Fuck you."

"Now, now," Ron pats him on the back, expression solemn for a moment, "Seriously though, are you sure? I mean, that stuff he did to you, to all of us really, despite our forgiveness that shit doesn't stop sticking with ya."

Harry bites his lip, knowing exactly what specific thing Ron was referencing. He absentmindedly touches the necklace around his neck, a twist of dark leather rope with a gold runic bead. Simple. Manly. Safe.

(Boring. Dull. Trash.)

"It doesn't matter now," Harry says softly, and maybe one day, he'll mean it, "Like you said Ron, Draco  _has_  changed. And, well, I  _like_  this new Draco."

Ron nods, a flicker of something passes through his eyes before grinning wildly again, slapping Harry hard on his he back. "Well! Then that's settled then!" He laughs and makes his way to the floo, "Don't you worry mate, I'll be the best wingman ever, scope him out at work tomorrow and all that jazz."

"Be subtle about it for the love of Merlin!" Harry calls out.

"Psh, no worries," Ron salutes himself off, "subtle is my middle name."

Harry shakes his head as his best friend leaves.

Lucky, lucky Harry, indeed.

* * *

"Soooo, Malfoy,"

Draco sighs as he writes their latest report. " _What_ , Weasley?"

"You're gay right?"

Draco crumples his parchment. "What?" He squeaks.

Ron nods and twists away from Draco to write something quickly. "Called it, totally gay."

"That's not our report." Draco accuses.

His auror partner was admittedly good at a lot of things. Lying was not exactly one of them. "Um, this is, uh, for updating our personal details. Look, since I'm the senior partner here-"

Merlin, that man was never going to let this go. "By seven months." He points out with gritted teeth.

"Heh, yeah, so as your senior, I gotta do, like, yearly updates into our bios."

Draco narrows his eyes, "I've never heard of that."

"And that's why you're the junior partne- oi! Give it!"

Draco leaps up to snatch whatever Ron had been writing on, practically backward tumbling in an attempt to escape Ron's fumbling attempt to get it back. He did end up rolling out of his chair, scrabbling to run a safe distance away from the Weasley, enough to unfold the parchment and skim through what on earth has Ron- "In what bloody universe does my auror biography need to know if I'm into tying people up and wearing leather?!" He screeches, red-faced.

Ron, looking a little pink himself, scratches his head awkwardly. "Uh, undercover work?"

Draco ignores him in favor of reading aloud the list with increasing incredulity, "Fucker or fuckee? Twinks, muscles or bears? Glasses, yay or nay? Preference of ass type?!" He stares at Ron, "What does that even mean?!"

"Oh, well, that's only if you said that you were interested in mostly topping dudes, though I guess it's still important either way, but like, see, some blokes like them big, or skinny and there's something called a bubble-"

"I get it," Draco snarls, embarrassed and regretful for even asking, "Weasley what the actual fuck?!"

"It's a survey!" Ron blurts out.

"No, yeah, somehow, I did get that!" Draco yells. "I meant why's it only questions about gay sex!"

"It's for Harry!"

That stops Draco up short. Because what. _Harry? What?_

"For Harry?" He echoes dumbly. Ron takes the opportunity to snatch the parchment back and nods stiffly.

"Yeah, like, Harry's decided to date but, well, obviously it's not like he's gone on like, any, seriously he is so antisocial and shy for a famous bloke, so he asked me to be his wingman right? And I figured, hey, wouldn't it be the quickest way to scope out potential suitors be through a series of questions so I could judge their comparability?"

"And, and," hope blooms in Draco's chest, it sort of feels like anxiety, really bad anxiety, "you think I am, uh, suitor material, for H-Harry?"

Ron gives him a funny look, "Well, _now_ I'm not so sure, look, if you don't want to answer the questions, that's cool, I'll just go down and see if Bordenson is interested-"

"Andrew Bordenson is a fucking  _bitch who can't find his own wand much less an orgas-_  oh, just  _give me that!_ " Draco growls as he desperately grabs the incredibly crumpled, slightly torn sex survey from Ron's suspiciously lax hands. Taking one of his favourite quills, Draco furiously begins working through the rather long list of sexual preferences.

As the blonde auror hunches inelegantly over the desk, Ron watches with a satisfied smile. All according to plan. He was the best wingman _ever._

* * *

"Wow, you and Draco are better friends than I thought," Harry blinks with wide eyes as Ron recounted as much information on the list that he could remember, "he just  _told_  you this stuff?"

Ron shrugs as he switches hands so Harry could continue painting his nails, "I  _am_  an auror, I picked up some things up in casual conversation too."

"You once had a casual conversation where you figured out Draco Malfoy is very into cross-dressing." Harry deadpanned with a flush on his face while he colors Ron's thumb with golden orange. It was an interesting blend of crushed orange fire opal and yellow agate among a few choice herbs. The combination provides the wearer with some healing properties and has been observed to be emotionally grounding as an interesting side effect. Perfect for a reckless auror like Ron.

"Oh, uh, I meant that he was into the other bloke crossdressing, not that he is," Ron backtracked while mentally trying to recreate the list in his mind, he thinks that's what it meant. Fuck, he should've been clearer on the survey. "Like, we had to find a witness at a gay muggle bar and I just noticed he got a bit distracted by some bloke in drag, you know, ancient Egypt look with the hair and all that fancy jewelry and eyeliner."

Harry blinks, "Huh, I guess that makes sense. Was that recently though? Because I showed him my newest line of wand charms which are loosely inspired by ancient cultures, so like," he makes a vague gesture with his free hand.

"No, I mean, maybe, but he was definitely looking at them with very little objectivity." Ron shrugs. It was true at least. He had to smack the man upside the head to get him to stop staring. In Draco's defense though, it was almost baffling how well done the whole ensemble was, the man was tanned and lithe enough to pull it off, and the amount of gold and jewelry heaped on him would have made Harry seethe in jealousy. Or just look sad and say something selfless like, 'I'm glad he has the courage to do what others can't,' and then get rip-roaring drunk.

"Okay... well, that's, that's good then," Harry says, blushing as he puts the nail polish away and gestures for Ron to wrap hands again, to which he easily complies. "And you really think I might have a shot here?"

Considering how fast and willing Draco was to answer a survey that included a question on bondage- 'interested'- how okay he was with introducing other partners into the relationship- 'absolutely not'- and even that stupid joke one about willingness to dress in Gryffindor robes- 'only if other partner wears Slytherin robes'- Ron's going to have to say an emphatic yes here.

Instead, he says, "Eh," and shrugs, "I mean, we know vaguely that if he has a type then you do fit most of it. But I want to check some other stuff first."

Harry pulls out a small assortment of small gemstones and runic stickers. Ron immediately eyes up the one section of wicked cool Halloween themed accessories. The Eye for an Eye project Harry had told him about was especially intriguing, but a very detailed description of the unfortunate side effects currently unfixed, made Ron refrain in asking. "How many types can I pick?"

"Our pearls for wandless Lumos is our most stable product, so if you pick that you can pick two more and make three." Harry recounts proudly. The nail products have started to pick up interest quickly despite not being on sale yet. Ron, on the virtue of being one of his best mates, was picked to be one of the first people to have first try at the prototypes and show them off in action. "If you don't want that, the most I can do is two different types unless you want the one that can make fire because that one tends to melt your nails if you put something else-"

"Ew, pass," Ron scrunches up his nose before peering curiously if a little warily at the pretty assortment of accessories. He's seen some of the injuries Harry had gotten while experimenting, and honestly, even as a fully trained auror who's seen a lot of rank stuff, some of the worst things still had to be whatever Harry had self-inflicted and landed himself in St Mungos for. More than once Harry had to have his nails regrown after they ripped when he had tried to install a Wingardium Leviosa spell into quartz. Ron had been there the first time. He hadn't stopped puking even after the third. "Didn't you say you managed one for protego?"

Harry frowns, "I mean, yes but it isn't very strong. It'll shatter under the first intermediate jinx, but it should give you enough time to produce a better shield during."

"I want that then," Ron decided, "Protego, Lumos and, uh, what do you recommend?"

"Well actually, if you choose Protego, then I can actually make a combination with moonstones to produce a sort of sleeping charm?" Harry says a little uncertain, like that, wasn't the most wicked cool thing ever. "It'll be enough to make them lose balance momentarily or fall down but they'll wake up immediately after they hit the ground."

"Uh,  _yes please_." Ron eagerly grins, "can we make it so I can put people to sleep just by pointing at them?"

Harry grins back, "As if I would design it to do anything else."

They laugh and Harry focuses on painstakingly placing the tiny pearls, moonstones and amethyst pieces in an intricate pattern that Ron knows had been researched heavily to produce the best outcome at the lowest risk without giving up Harry's aesthetics in the process. It's absolutely brilliant and yet it's just equally as tragic how far Harry has pushed himself to accomplish this. Ron has to wonder, if Harry had still been secure enough to wear jewelry would he have even been half as successful as he was. To enjoy wearing shiny things in public without the excuse of practicality to hide behind.

Ron would like to think so. Harry's always been the determined sort.

Or maybe he would have never even started. Joined the aurors with Ron or something. Harry would've been happy for a while there. But even Ron, who had been the most disappointed when Harry didn't join with him, had to admit it wouldn't have been for long.

"Ron? You okay bud?" Harry asks, "Being awfully quite there, it's super weird."

"Oi!" Ron protests with as much vigor he can muster, "I can be quiet, in fact, have I told you about that time when me and Malfoy had to go-"

It wasn't worth dwelling over, not really. Harry is who he is now and he's pretty damn happy with that. So Ron's pretty damn happy with that too.

Harry laughs at Ron's story, so Ron regales him with more while Harry puts a protective topcoat over his nails. Made of jellyfish bits among other shit, Ron really didn't want to know. What he does know, is that Draco may be interested, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's right for Harry.

Oh no, Ron has more or less forgiven, but he won't forget. Draco will have to work for Harry. And work bloody hard.

Ron makes a mental note to tell Hermione his plans later. Just in case they were too stupid. Or not stupid enough. He'll see.

"Aaand done!" Harry leaned back to admire his handiwork, "There, you'll be the belle of the Ministry Ball."

"All I gotta do is flash my hands and the prince will be mine," Ron grins.

* * *

 

After Ron's debut with Harry's new Wandless Wonder Nails- for the strong independent witch or wizard who don't need no wand- Harry had been swamped with orders. The shop hadn't been doing much better really. Harry doesn't think he's seen the shop floors for days. Then again, he shudders to imagine what they were like now so maybe that was a good thing in the short run.

"You know Harry," Garrick comments dryly, "I could've sworn before you came here this place used to be a wand shop."

"Really?" Harry remarks as he gives a blushing witch her change, "I don't recall."

"Hm, yes, it was a very traditional shop. One that sold wands and their holsters."

"Sounds rather dull," Harry smirks, "how was business back in the ye old?"

"It could've been better," Garrick admits grudgingly before narrowing his eyes at the sea of people swarming the shop, "then again, it had been a hell of a lot quieter."

"Touché," Harry mutters as he flinched at one wizard's particularly loud and braying laughter. That wizard and his buddies have been doing nothing but hanging out in the corner and being a right pain. "Ugh, man the front for me Garrick."

"Don't be too rough." The older wizard glibly replies, "Now, who's next?"

"Oi, guys," Harry calls out, gaining the group's attention, "If you aren't going to buy anything can you please leave? It's crowded enough as it is."

"What's it to you bruv?" The presumed leader, a big hulking blond golem of a teenager sneers. He's bigger than Crabbe and Goyle combined. All of the group were actually. To be fair, he'd chatted with one of his customers thinking they were a fully grown adult only to embarrassingly be informed that she was a fifth year at Hogwarts by an amused Garrick.

Honestly, what has everyone been feeding their kids after the war, because clearly, Harry is in dire need of it.

"I am co-owner of this shop," Harry answers back mildly.

Some of the leader's friends shifts as they realise who exactly they're talking to. "Uh, Rob?" A skinny but still very tall teenager with unfortunate acne nudges his friend's ribs, "Um, I think that's Harry Potter."

The blonde golem, Rob, squints unattractively, "Kind of small for the Man Who Conquered ain't it?"

Harry has to wonder what House these morons were in. He would rule out Ravenclaw just on the assumption that most of the witches and wizards who generally enjoy reading would have most definitely seen the few photographs of him that Harry had allowed for the history books and for advertising purposes for the store. Not to say the other houses don't like reading, but the chances of individuals who don't read are just generally higher in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

They were most likely young muggleborns as well. New blood. Very new. Harry couldn't exactly imagine anyone who had been living in the Wizarding world being unaffected by his titles after all. The older students still look at him with awe or at least.

Merlin, Harry has never asked for fame and glory but he doesn't exactly appreciate seeing time pass by through every new year full of muggleborns and their increasingly skeptic and vaguely unimpressed attitudes toward the famed Man Who Conquered or whatever epithet they were using nowadays. Which was rather offending because unlike all that Boy Who Lived bullocks, Harry had actually earned this new title. Like, he had died and fought a dark lord for the nth time for fucks sake. It made him feel old. And he was only twenty-seven dammit!

"Kinda big for a third year Mr Jones," a familiar voice points out sarcastically.

That gets Rob to straighten up. "M-Mr Malfoy! Sir! Uh, um, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here," Draco drawls in that slow drawn out way that Harry sort of hates because it reminds him how much of an asshole the man could be and yet so insanely attractive at the same time, "because I was visiting my friend, Potter." He raises an elegant brow at the group of Hogwarts students. "And yourself Mr Jones?"

"Nuthin," Rob quickly says, "We were, uh, just checking around but we're done now, so, yeah." The group scurries off frantically.

Harry turns to Draco, impressed, and faintly aroused. Then again, that seems to be his constant state around Draco recently.

"I saved his parents from a hit and run with some leftover Death Eater wannabes when they went to Diagon Alley the first time. The boy has been sending me fanmail ever since," Draco explains, scratching his chin as a faint flush graced his pale features, "I, uh, he's sort of considered me like, um,"

"A hero?" Harry finishes with twinkling eyes that could have rivaled Dumbledore's. Draco's flush darkens considerably.

"A mentor." He corrects primly.

"I don't know," Harry drawls, a rather poor impersonation of Draco's own, too filled with warmth and laughter to really pull it off, "you seem pretty heroic to me."

Flirting. Harry was totally flirting. Oh, _Merlin_. He hasn't actively flirted since that time Hermione insisted on exploring muggle bars for a brief, and very drunken period of time when he was twenty-one. For three days they went on an absolute bender, the resulting hangover on the fourth day made Harry violently wish Voldemort had successfully murdered him the first time. Ha. Fun times.

Draco, either unused to flirting- which seemed incredibly unlikely- of just unused to Harry flirting with him- clearly the correct answer- was gaping at him like a dying fish. Harry strongly believes there is something deeply wrong with him to find the dying fish look quite fetching.

Feeling stupid Harry embarrassed, looks away and notices the way the predominantly female crowd around them was watching them like vaguely hungry hawks. Clearing his throat, Harry dares himself to look at Draco's face again, though he refuses to provide eye contact, there's not enough Gryffindor bravery in the world right now that'll get him to do so, "So, uh, why don't we, do you want to go somewhere more private?"

If anything that seems to make Draco have some sort of faint aneurysm. "I, uh, private you, really, now?"

Harry frowns lightly, "Yes? The back office has a nice couch, it's pretty big." Draco was always a bitch about good seating. It's the reason why Harry has a new armchair in his apartment. Not that anyone but Vipermort, the possessive snakey prick ever use it. "Is that fine?"

"I, not, I just expected, maybe later, I want to, not like, I, just- really?"

"Uh yes," Harry says slowly because someone clearly did not have their morning caffeine fix today, what the fuck, "seriously what is wrong with-" then it hits him, "To talk!" Harry squawks out, mortified that his friend, the auror had jumped to that conclusion."I just, privacy for talking! Nothing more,  _Merlin_!"

"O- _oh_ ," Draco stutters, "Right, yeah, I knew that." He blatantly lies. Harry would be laughing if he wasn't as embarrassed as he was.

"Though it's a bloody good thing I know how'd you react now if I meant it that way." He mutters, slightly irritated because even if Harry hadn't actually intended to ask for a quick snog the awkward rejection still stung once it sunk in. "Look maybe you should just g-"

"Wait, no, I, I wouldn't have minded!" Draco practically shouts, way too loud and frantic for somewhere that is still not at all private, "I mean," he stumbles, then in a softer voice he says, "if you did mean it, um, _that way_ , I, uh, I wouldn't have minded, if you wanted to."

" _Oh_ ," Harry says flustered, the inside of his chest fluttering like it was made up of very tiny snitches, "Well, I mean, we could go have lunch?"

That's when he feels Garrick actually glaring at them. He doesn't glare often but when he does,  _oh_ , you could feel it even through a sea of people between them. Draco, who was unforgivably far taller than Harry, had the misfortune to actually catch direct sight of said glare and blanches. "How about dinner instead?" He weakly smiles.

"Yeah, uh, that's probably for the best," Harry laughs and both their shoulders ease as the older wand maker glances away to greet the next customer in line.

"Okay, great," They stand there for a minute, unsure what to do next. Draco fidgets like he had pixies crawling underneath his clothes and Harry rubs the bumps of his bedazzled wand with his thumb as if it would eventually summon a genie he could wish to produce a casual way out of this situation.

It's Draco who makes the move, "Well," he says and he leans down to press his lips quickly against Harry's cheek, "Bye." And with that he flees, like the romantic coward he is, leaving Harry wide-eyed and with the faint electric sizzle of his chaste kiss still lingering on his skin.

Garrick, who had been manning the till and had therefore seen everything makes a vague sound of disgust, "Bloody hell," he groans under his breath, "at least give him a proper ki- that'll be one galleon, three sickles." The customer hands it over, a woman who Garrick idly notes looks like someone who follows too many fashion trends and has money to burn. That niche seems to make up a lot of his clientele nowadays, unfortunately. Then again, he's never been so economically stable in his life.

He muses absentmindedly for a while about ordering some new exotic woods and wand cores to experiment with in the future now that he could afford it. Watching Harry has awakened the inventor's itch inside him. Quickly though he snaps out of it as a notably flushed Harry joins him behind the register.

"Sorry, sorry," the young wizard apologises, slightly breathless like he had just run from Hogwarts instead of four meters away. "I was, uh, bit distracted,"

"Yes," Garrick dryly replies, "I _was_ there. I'm more than aware of what was happening."

Harry flushes. It was very adorable. Garrick was never the type to want children but if he did, he would want a Harry. But without the poor taste in men. Then again, no one could be perfect. "Um," Harry says.

"Also. Don't ever do anything _private_ in my office." Garrick adds because he was over a hundred and seventy years old and therefore can legitimately use the excuse that his hearing charms are for his bad ears and totally not for eavesdropping on his young coworker's love life. To be fair, it wasn't like Harry had much of a love life till now. So. "That office has been used for four generations in my family and I would deeply appreciate you spare it from being defiled by a Malfoy. I'm going to go on lunch now."

"Um," Harry repeats.

Garrick goes to lunch.

**Author's Note:**

> And they eventually live happily ever after!
> 
>  
> 
> Yeah, the ending is hella abrupt. I may write more eventually, probably, if it turns out people are actually interested in this but eh, doubt it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my one technically finished HP fic lol.


End file.
